


A Different Use For Books

by Bluethenstaub



Series: Dried flowers, pressed between book pages [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluethenstaub/pseuds/Bluethenstaub
Summary: Crowley had the idea to use old book pages as a wrapping for his flowers. Not everyone seems to like the idea.





	A Different Use For Books

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Staubengel <3

Crowley hated his job. 

Normally, he really loved his job, but today, today he hated it. Not that he  _ actually  _ hated it, but normally he didn’t have to stand out here in the cold during November, getting shouted at by a random stranger who didn’t even want to buy anything!

He had a flower shop. It was a nice, little flower shop, one where desperate men would buy flowers for their beloved, and where lonely women purchased flowers to lighten the mood in their apartments. 

He was proud to say that he had some of the most beautiful flowers of the whole city. The whole country, he dared to say on a better day. 

The shop didn’t make him rich, but he could live his life without any financial problems. And he was happy. That was everything that mattered. 

Recently he had gotten an idea. What if he abandoned plastic wrappings for his flowers all together? Plastic was bad for the nature, after all, he had learned this in a documentary he was watching a few weeks ago, during dinner in his apartment. So during the last weeks, he stopped buying new plastic products and looked for nice wrapping papers. 

And he found some good ones. He had bought some looking like a galaxy, some with flowers, monochrome ones, funny animals, dinosaurs, classic patterns, art prints, he had even found a little shop online that would sell wrapping paper in all kind of pride flags. His customers loved it. Everyone wanted a different kind of wrapping paper for their flowers. 

A few days ago, he had a new idea. What if he used old book pages? So he had paid a visit to the flea market and got some nice looking old books for almost nothing. He couldn’t just use any kind of book, of course. They had to have a certain size or else the wrapping wouldn’t look that nice. With three old books in his bag he made his way back home, a nature book, an old art book, and some kind of history book, nothing with religion, of course, he didn’t want to get involved with religion, especially not during work. 

A few youtube tutorials later he undid the binding of the first book and brought some of the pages with him to work the next Monday. 

This Monday. 

Today. 

It had been a lazy morning, not many customers wanted to buy flowers today. 

There was an old man who came regularly to buy flowers for his bedridden wife. They were already married for 65 years, he had told Crowley one day, but recently her health had started to decline. And since he wanted to do her something good, he regularly brought her the most beautiful flowers to brighten up her day. He always chose a monochrome paper for his flowers, simple, but highlighting up the most beautiful petals of the bouquet. 

Another customer today had been a woman Crowley’s age. She was also a regular customer. She had bought a bouquet with big, heavy flowers, all a different shade of red. Her followers would love it, she had told him. She was an artist, always doing portrait photographs where she’d use the flowers she had bought from him in one way or another. He had looked her up online, one evening after work after she had left him her card. The pictures were really beautiful. She had chosen the trans pride flag as her wrapping today. 

Just as Crowley started to discuss with himself what he wanted to get for lunch today, his third customer visited. He was a middle-aged man who needed a bouquet for his wife. Apparently, he had almost forgotten their wedding day and wanted to distract her with some beautiful flowers while he got her another present. He didn’t care about the wrapping paper but since his wife worked in a library, Crowley chose one of the book pages. Maybe she would appreciate it. Crowley also told him about that nice little antique bookshop down the street, maybe he would find something for her there. A book as a present was always nice, wasn’t it? The man had thanked him for his advice and left in a hurry. 

Crowley wasn’t really sure if his advice had been for the better or the worse. Apparently, the man had visited the bookshop and had wanted to buy something for his wife there. And he had met the owner of the bookshop.

Crowley hadn’t considered the owner of the bookshop when he had wrapped the flowers in a page of a book. Crowley hadn’t considered that the owner of a bookshop was able to identify a rare book just with one look at a page. Crowley hadn’t considered this bookshop owner to grab the wrapping, close his shop and make his way over here. Crowley hadn’t considered that this man would start to shout at Crowley how he dared to pull out pages out of a rare book while Crowley was just innocently checking out the shop window from the outside and if he had to rearrange something to look better. Crowley hadn’t considered that this would go on for twenty minutes. Crowley hadn’t considered that this Shakespearean monologue would attract a horde of curious people standing in a semicircle around them.

If Crowley had considered all this he would have grabbed a jacket before he went outside. 

While Crowley’s teeth started to chatter since he was only wearing a light shirt - normally enough for him as he didn’t have to leave his shop for long - the bookshop owner dared to wear an old camel hair coat and a tartan scarf. This man! This person! This person was wearing a warm coat while Crowley was freezing to death!

He had enough. Like a snake on a fence, Crowley made his way around the bookshop owner to go back inside. The bookshop owner followed him, not stopping his triad even once. Crowley was sure the last time that guy had taken a breath had been right when he saw Crowley the first time and started his monologue with the words: “Pardon me, my dear boy, but it came to my attention today that you wrap your wet weeds in ripped out pages of a priceless artefact of our history!” 

The worst thing about this all wasn't the cold or the guy yelling at him, he certainly wasn't the first or last man to do that to him, no, it was that he was attracting people who would normally take more than just one glance at the window and buy something instead of staring at Crowley and this person! He had a business to run here! And he didn't even get a chance to argue back. 

Unfortunately, the bookshop owner was fast enough to make it into Crowley’s shop before Crowley could lock the door from the inside. 

To make it even worse, it was time for his break right now, and he certainly didn't want to spend it with this guy. 

“-And this is why I can't allow you to use a book with such a rich history as a wrapping paper! Use  _ The Sun _ , instead!”

There was silence.

Crowley didn't even realize it for several seconds 

He blinked slowly. “You are finished?”

“Not even close, but it seems to me that you don't want to listen anymore.”

“I didn't even want to listen in the first place,” Crowley mumbled.

The man ignored this remark. “Where's the book?”

“What?”

“I asked you where I can find the book. I'm buying it from you.” He pulled his wallet out of an inside pocket of his coat. “How much?”

“You- what? No.”

“No? But didn't you listen-"

“No! No, I did  _ not  _ listen when you literally ambushed me in front of my shop to tell me the history of a book I don't even care about!”

“Figuratively.”

“What?”

“If I'd have ambushed you  _ literally _ , you'd have a knife in your back.”

Crowley threw his hands in the air. “Gosh, you're one of these dudes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever. I don't care about your stupid book.” He made his way behind the counter and pulled a big, brown envelope out from under it. “Here it is. The first half. Just take it and shut up. Come back tomorrow and you'll get the second half.”

The man's mouth stood open. He breathed in deeply, almost vibrating with excitement. “I can have it?”

“Yes. You ruined it for me.”

“What do you want for it?”

“Nothing. Just be quiet and stop talking about it.”

Carefully, he took the envelope. “Let me buy you  at least dinner.”

“What?”

“Dinner. Or lunch, if you prefer.”

“I don’t-” But Crowley never finished this sentence. His stomach answered with a growl.

The man laughed. “Lunch it is. I knew a lovely little restaurant, just down the street. We’ll go there.” 

Crowley only nodded. Who was he to argue with his stomach when he had made such a convincing argumen? And the bookshop owner would learn his lesson soon enough. Crowley was sure he’d order the most expensive dish from the menu and that he would even order dessert. He was sure that he would just enjoy the food as long as the bookshop owner wouldn’t start talking about the bloody book again. Maybe Crowley would get another invite for lunch tomorrow since that guy was so grateful for the bloody book. And even if not, he was sure that he would never see him again after tomorrow.

What he didn’t know was that they would soon fall in love after long talks during lunch, dinner, and even breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that the average time a plastic bag actually gets used is only 16 minutes before it gets thrown away?


End file.
